


Two Hundred Miles

by Blue_Thallium (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Blue_Thallium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear Jean,</p><p>Despite my previous misgivings about being too intimate within our letters, I have to admit, you’re not the only one feeling the effects of our lack of physical contact over the last few months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Hundred Miles

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kink meme de-anon, I kind of hijacked the original prompt and i'm really sorry about that

Dear Jean, 

I do hope you can visit soon. As much as I’m enjoying teaching this latest batch of recruits, I must admit I’m missing you more than I thought I would. Though I can’t say I’d like to have us both out picking off the last of the titans, it’d be nice to have you near me every day again. it’d be nice to have you near me every day again.

There is a girl here who reminds me of you. She is fourteen, and she called a boy an idiot in class today because he wanted to join the scouting legion. She then gave us a lengthy lecture about how all of the other students should be gunning to join the military police like her. I did send her out of the room, but I have to say, the boy she’d called an idiot looked very shaken.

I can’t imagine it’s particularly exciting up in command, but I feel better knowing you’re safe, I suppose, _Major_ Jean. It was a shame I couldn’t make it to your promotion, but I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it in your next letter. I have a feeling they want to groom you for command, but I’m biased. One of my students is convinced the brave and bold Captain Ackerman should have been promoted above you (I do like to keep them in touch with politics) but I’m sure she’s perfectly happy with her position.

Did you know they’ve started referring to her as your “Attack Dog”? It’s a title I’d have found more appropriate for Eren, personally, but I don’t come up with the nicknames, I just over hear them.

I hope you drop in and see me before you head back down to HQ. Maybe you could kidnap me for a few days. As much as I’m enjoying teaching, and as useless as I am in the field, I would love to pop down for a while. I’ve been sat picking holes in the attack plans I drew out for Erwin a few years ago, and I’d really like to scrap them, and talk through some new ones with Hanji.

Pass my love on to the Attack Dog, and let her know I have a letter coming for her as well. They’re only letting us send one at a time, at the moment. I’ve no idea why. 

I’ll be sure to mention your promotion as much as physically possible in my next letter to poor old, promotionless Squad Leader Jaeger.

All my love,  
Armin

(PS: I’m officially a “Special Squad Leader” now. Which is like a Captain, except without the title, and I only command a few hundred children, and the commands are mostly regarding their piss poor spelling, and lack of interest in my research.

“Special” Squad Leader my ass, this reminds me of when they made Eren the Milk Monitor at our old school house to make him feel important.)

 

*

Dear “Special” Squad Leader Arlert,

Good to know you’re enjoying your new role. It’s also good to know that even Armin Arlert is not above pissing and moaning about his title.

I hope I can visit soon as well. As much as I’ve missed your company, your smile, your etc etc etc, I’m worried my balls might drop off if I don’t see you soon. I know you don’t like it when I put stuff like this in letters (which no one fucking reads because I’ve never gotten one with a broken seal) and you’re probably just going to ignore it but I am going slowly insane here.

This promotion and conference and training and blah blah blah is so mind numbingly dull, I think I actually miss the titans. I have spent the last two weeks alternating between fantasising about fucking you on different surfaces around the room, and killing titans. I miss killing titans. I miss putting on the gear, I miss flying from tree to tree to tree like some kind of huge man squirrel. 

The ride here was boring as shit, the promotion was boring is shit, the conference with all the other commanders and majors were boring as shit, Erwin is an _ass_ and I’m fairly sure he’d sell mine to have his own little attack dog sat in my place.

He’s done nothing but gripe about the fact that I was allowed to bring Mikasa, but Levi couldn’t come. Fuck Levi. Mikasa’s here because she got a fucking promotion and because we have to learn how to act as fucking… I don’t know, she reports directly to me now and apparently that needs to be drilled into her over a series of lectures rather than them just telling her.

Plus, it’s not like they can have Mikasa and Levi out of the field at the same time, everyone would die. Fuck Erwin. Fuck his bitching. It’s like the good of humanity is his number one goal till he’s had no one to talk to for a week, then it’s “Levi should be here” this and “I want you to know I put his name forward for this promotion” that. Fuck you, Erwin, if Levi was suitable for command they’d have promoted him years ago.

I’ve never been so simultaneously angry, bored and horny in my entire life. I’ll ask Shadis if you can have a couple of weeks off to update our strategies and regroup with the new chain of command, except this will actually only take one week, and you will spend the remaining week naked and tied to my bed posts. 

I had no idea that people were calling Mikasa my attack dog, by the way, I just told her, and she punched me in the arm and it really hurt.

Love,  
Jean

Ps: please give me something to work with in your next letter. You’re so good with words, and I am so frustrated, all I want to do is bend you over this desk, or have you bend me over this desk. In fact, if you could bend me over a desk the next time we meet, it’d be much obliged. 

PPS: Mikasa wants me to remind you she's now Lieutenant Ackerman, not captain. 

 

*

Dear Major Blueballs,

Despite my previous misgivings about being too intimate within our letters, I have to admit, you’re not the only one feeling the effects of our lack of physical contact over the last few months. When you dropped into the camp on your way up to the inner wall, and you couldn’t stay for longer than a few hours and you had to pick up fucking Shadis on your way, I just could have killed you for turning up at all.

The only reason I’d have wanted to be at your promotion ceremony is so I could have seen you in the formal uniform. Read this as: please, please, please bring the formal uniform back with you. 

I can’t decide whether I’d rather have the big bad Major take advantage of his rank with me, the poor lowly squad leader, or if…  
I couldn’t think of a better way to put it, basically I can’t decide if I’d like you to fuck me in the uniform, or if I should fuck you in the uniform. Either way, the uniform must be involved, it is a very handsome uniform, and we should take great pains to absolutely ruin yours.

Anyway, I can’t say I’m surprised Erwin is acting like an ass. Erwin _is_ an ass. He’s brilliant, but he’s still an ass. I imagine if he’s whining so much about Levi’s absence, the two of them could well be in the same position as you and I, to drag that old rumour out of the mud again.  
But then, just between the two of us, I’m absolutely convinced Levi has bedded Eren at one time or another. And Hanji. I don’t know if I’m giving Levi too much credit here, but I’m sure he’s gotten around. I’ve tried asking Eren before, but all he does is vehemently deny it, but in the way a child vehemently denies stealing biscuits when they have crumbs all over their mouth.

I was feeling all excited after thinking about you in your uniform, but after mulling over both Eren and the Captain’s sex lives, I have given myself the mental equivalent of a cold shower.  
I hope this training period perks up a little for you, and if Shadis doesn’t grant me the time off, I will make his life a living hell for the next three years. 

All my love,  
Armin

Ps: Mikasa tells me none of this is anywhere near as bad as you’re making it out to be, and you are just a big baby.

 

*

Dear Armin,

Mikasa is a lying cow, this is literal torture. Also I’m going to gloss over the entire section about Levi and Eren and Hanji and Erwin because that’s a handful of mental images I just don’t want to deal with. Especially not considering I’ve spent half of the last day sat next to Erwin. I know everyone calls him Commander handsome, and we are all supposed to be in universal agreement that Levi has a certain Je Ne Sais Quoi, but I think they’re both fucking foul and I never want to think about them dicking each other ever again. And I certainly don’t want to think about Eren’s dick full stop. And Hanji well… Admittedly, I would have a go on Hanji, but only because they remind me of you.

Shadis has Okayed you for one week away, not including travel. It’s the best I could do. I argued him up from one week including travel, so it could have been a lot worse. I’ll be done in a week, so you need to be packed for the Tuesday after next.

I love our time together. I know it’s shitty that we have to be apart so much, but what little time we do spend together makes it worth it, don’t you think?

The list of things I can’t wait to do to you just keeps getting longer and longer. I thought on our first night we might have dinner together in my quarters. We’ll have just arrived, so no one will expect us to do any work. And then after, we can take a bath. The tub is a little small for the two of us, but still. I’ll give you a backrub while we’re in there, because I’m a romantic. And maybe I’ll start you off too, because I’m gross, and I like those cute squeaky noises you make when I touch your nipples. Your voice has dropped like two octaves since we first met, but you still sound like a kitten when I do the nipple thing. You’re going to be in your fifties with a big beard and you’ll still be a little kitten when any one gets to your nips. I just hope it’s still me who’s getting to them.

But after the bath, you’ll be all hard and needy, and I’ll have to convince you it’s a bad idea for us to fuck in the tub, or that we’ll catch a cold on the bathroom floor and we’ll both be achy as fuck in the morning. As much as I love you, I just don’t understand your obsession with fucking on the floor. I just don’t see the appeal of being cold and getting tile prints on your ass, or worse, splinters.

Still, you are a manipulative little shit, so I bet I’ll end up sucking your dick in the bathroom anyway, because I’m whipped and we both know it, and my knees will hurt like hell tomorrow and you’ll jizz on my face and I won’t even care because it’s just so nice to see you and be with you.

I wanted to get all pretty with this but now I’m just thinking about sucking your dick and writing one handed. Pretty words are your job.

I can’t wait to see you, I can’t wait I can’t wait

Love,  
Jean

 

*

Dear Jean,

Your last letter ended very abruptly. As amusing as the mental image of your “writing one handed” was (do you usually write with two hands, by the way? Some trouble with pen control?) it was a shame you didn’t go into much more detail. 

But then, we’re only a week away from each other now. I think I miss your cock almost as much as I miss the rest of you. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration but it’s such a lovely cock. I remember how horrified you were after my growth spurt when you realised mine had gotten bigger than yours. A thousand tiny violins chorused for you and your slightly smaller penis that evening.  
At least it’s nice and thick. It’s been a while since I’ve had it inside of me, far too long.  
It was spring the last time we were together, and now the leaves are starting to turn. Summer has been unbearable. Lonely isn’t even the word, between that visit from you and Mikasa, and Eren’s brief few days here in August, I’ve barely spoken to any one over the age of fifteen since April. Shadis doesn’t count, because like the God of pain and suffering himself, he is ageless, he is eternal.

I went from having your cock in me to Shadis in one paragraph; I’m beginning to think I have a talent for writing myself out of erections. 

I miss you so much I can hardly stand it. This week couldn’t pass quickly enough. My more astute troops are beginning to grow concerned for me, a boy asked me if I was feeling alright today, and I couldn’t tell him I was. I simply told him I was missing someone very close to me, and he said he was sorry, and told me he was missing his mother. It was kind of him to say, but I doubt he misses his mother in quite the same way I miss you.  
At least I hope he doesn’t, I’m sure he’s never written a letter to her saying anything along the lines of “I ache to feel your cum hit the back of my throat” or “I wonder if you can still get your ankles behind your head for me” but then, neither would I, because that’d be a terribly crude and potentially damning thing to put in a letter.

At least it would be damning if everyone didn’t know already. Interestingly enough, I paused while writing this letter to go and pick my dinner from the canteen and I overheard a pair of recruits gossiping about me! The nerve! Recruit A had apparently heard I was sleeping with Mikasa, where Recruit B was quite adamant he’d heard a tale about the Commander himself catching us having sex hanging from a tree in our gear. 

I sent them both to do 100 laps. I told you we’d never live the tree incident down, I bloody told you.

How did they even hear that? Did you tell someone while you were here? You always were oddly proud of that story you know, I know managing it was quite a feat, but still. A little tact, in future, perhaps? You remember how we’d milk any scrap of a rumour we got about Shadis? Well they do that to me now. 

They’re like vultures, I got a haircut last week and I heard them _dissecting_ it during their break.

All my love,  
Armin

PS: I got a haircut. Short back and sides, I know you like it long, but it was driving me up the wall, and I overheard a group of trainees referring to me as “you know, Arlert, the pretty one”.

PPS: I’m regretting it a little, my ears are really cold.

 

*

Dear Armin,

I am in a tiny huff about the haircut, but I’ll survive. As long as you didn’t pull a Connie and scalp yourself, I’m fine, I just like to have something to hold on to.

You’re always going to be the pretty one, though, regardless of what you do with your hair. Compared to Shadis and the rest of the teaching staff you’re an oil painting. Not that you’re not usually an oil painting, I always think you’re an oil painting, I think you’re a fucking angel, but next to that band of troglodytes you’re going to look to the recruits like Historia looked to us when we all first joined. And after we graduated. And now, to be honest.

I’m not saying I’d leave you for Historia if she offered, but I’d have to think about it for a very long time.

Still, I imagine you’re going to end up with quite the batch of admirers by the end of the year. You are staggeringly none-threatening; I wouldn’t be surprised if they started pushing love letters under your door.

I still don’t understand why you’re not proud of the tree story, it’s fucking heroic. Even after the commander caught us, it was still fucking heroic. Even he looked impressed. When he called me in for the disciplinary, he barely even lectured me about sleeping with your subordinates, he just asked me like “How on earth did you get up there and stay up there?” and stuff he was genuinely fascinated. I probably did tell someone. I tell anyone who listens. I’m not very sorry, but I’ll try to only tell it when I’m drunk in the future. You shouldn’t have given those trainees 100 laps, you should have asked them if they were jealous, because you get to fuck one of the most handsome, talented, and generally wonderful men in the whole army on a regular basis and you get to do it in fantastical ways, that are feats of balance, planning, coordination and physical strength. 

It’ll only be three days till we see each other by the time you get this letter, and I can hardly wait. Erwin asked me why I was in such a good mood, and Mikasa told him I was “Regrouping” with you down at HQ next week (complete with air-quotes), and he gave me this look like he wanted to kick me in the nuts. Like I even give a shit, I’ve never been so smug about anything in my life. I’m even smugger about wangling this week for you than you are about your cock based growth spurt. 

It’s like, you think after ten years you’d shut up about it, but you still haven’t. It’s incredible really. 

I’m too excited about seeing you to miss you at the moment. I’m so sorry you’ve been lonely. I’ll write you twice as much. And when I’m indisposed, I’ll make sure everyone else writes you to make up for it.

Love,  
Jean

PS: I know you didn’t write or “I wonder if you can still get your ankles behind your head for me” because it’s a bit crude and potentially damning, so I’m not going to answer “Of course I can, I’m as limber as ever, I have to be because you seem to like me bent up at the strangest angles.”

 

*

Jean,

Well we can test just how limber you are tomorrow evening.

All my love,  
Armin

 

*

 

Dear Jean,

It has only been a few hours since I returned to the training grounds, but I am already missing you more than I can say. I hope this letter reaches you before you leave for the outside. I can’t believe it’ll be two months till I can see you again, or even write to you properly. I know there is only so much a carrier pigeon can hold, but I’d like a message at least once a week just to let me know you’re okay. 

Please be careful, Jean, I know it’s not as dangerous as it used to be, but fatalities are still high. My new formations might even reduce mortality by 9% rather than the 6% I’d originally calculated, but please, please, please don’t do anything stupid. Don’t be rash, don’t be a hero, just keep your head down, and send the grunts to do the dirty work for you. I know that’s a horrible thing for me to say, but please prioritise your survival, even if it’s just for my sake.

I wish I hadn’t taken this damn job, I’m only doing it for the promotion and the free time I have to plan. If my new plans work, and now you’re a Major, you could probably request for me to be made your personal tactician, and we’d barely have to be apart. My ideas just have to work to justify it. 

I suppose I’ll try to write you a long letter, something to keep you going over the wall.

I had one of the most uncomfortable horse rides back to the training ground I’ve ever had in my whole life. I did complain you were being too rough, but I couldn’t bring myself to complain for long. 

Regardless of how much discomfort I was in, I couldn’t help but smile at every little groan of my muscles. It was a reminder of where you’d been, the ways you’d touched me. I have bruises and bite marks all over my chest, and everyone is the shape of your mouth, or an imprint of your teeth.

Despite the fact I’m going to be stuck wearing a high collar and an undershirt for the next few weeks, I wish they wouldn’t fade. I need to remember every place your mouth touched my body. If the hot water stings the scratch marks on my back (which you have absolutely shredded, by the way) then it’s almost like having you with me again, in a small way.

I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight, or any other night. I can’t get the last week out of my head; I can’t get you out of my head. All I want to do is have you, in my mouth, my ass, in my hands, all over me. I can still smell you all over my clothes, I swear I can still taste your cum and your spit. 

You are so beautiful when we fuck. The way your body bends and curls when I touch you, the way your face twists and you grit your teeth, and God, that smile after you finish, that smile when you know I’m hard and you know I want you. It’s so loud. I feel like it rings in my ears, like it’s burnt into the back of my brain with your screams, which are so bright and clear when they burst out of you, the way you try to hold them back and you know you can’t. 

I’m aching while I write this. Everything hurts, my arms are stiff and my back sore, and my chest is throbbing because I know I’ll barely hear from you for two months, and God only knows when I’ll see you again. Five months? Six months, this time? 

I love you so much. I love you more than I can bear sometimes. I love you in all the ways you can love another person. I just want to be with you, I want to touch you and smell you, I want to cook for you and rub your feet after a long day, I want to laugh at your stupid jokes, I want to roll my eyes at you and tell you you’re disgusting, I want you button your shirt up for you when you get old and your hands start shaking, I want to wipe the drool off your chin when you’re 90 and you’ve lost your marbles, I want to lick my way from the base of your spine to the back of your neck, and hold you down and pretend like you couldn’t throw me off you like a piece of paper so I can feel like you’ll never leave me like this again for a while.

Please don’t die, Jean, please don’t. Please be safe, please, please, please be safe, please don’t make me live like this forever, I don’t know what I’d do if you died. I know I’m a selfish pig and you do what you do for the greater good, but we’ve done so much for the greater good already. Fuck the greater good for once. Do it for us.

Remember, a pigeon at least once a week.

All my love,  
Armin

*

A -

Good news, Jean coming home whole month early. Bad news, Jean contracted pneumonia. In no immediate danger, going to hospital immediately. Told me to tell you “At least I didn’t get eaten.”

\- M

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for any comments, kudos or bookmarks it's all appreciated :33


End file.
